


Adrift

by Viridian5



Category: Two Guys a Girl and a Pizza Place
Genre: Angst, Drama, Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-10-01
Updated: 1999-10-01
Packaged: 2017-10-02 08:45:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viridian5/pseuds/Viridian5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things fall apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adrift

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for "A New Hope."
> 
> I worried about what the season premiere would be like. To my shock, it was worse than I imagined. Pete had become an utter idiot and obsessed with Sharon, which made no sense since he always related to her as if he were one of her girlfriends. Berg had been emasculated and now lacked any spine whatsoever. Hell, he's so spineless, he should be using pseudopods to propel himself. As for Ashley... the less said the better. Every storyline concerning Pete, Berg, and Ashley was contrived and utterly unbelievable as well as just plain not funny. Johnny keeps getting better, though.
> 
> After I went through my fits of "say it ain't so!" I wondered if anything could explain what had happened to Pete and Berg. Here's my attempt.

Berg: "I'll have you know that each and every item in this  
apartment has been handpicked, every single one has a story  
behind it."

Ashley: "I know, and every story starts with: 'Okay, so Pete  
and I were totally hammered one night....'"  
  -- _Two Guys and a Girl_, "A New Hope"  
\----------------------------------------------------------------

Berg nestled in Pete's bed and tried to block out the sounds of Ashley moving furniture in the living room. He admitted to himself that he was hiding here, trying to avoid her and the changes she forced down his throat. What could he do? She laughed at all his protests. //Where the hell did my spine go? I know I had one once.//

She didn't even live here...

Ashley hadn't touched Pete's room yet, but Berg figured that would only be a matter of time. Would Pete recognize the apartment at all when he returned?

Pete would return, and he'd be okay. He had to.

Why hadn't Pete called? Pete always called. He swore he'd call when he got to wherever the hell it was he'd gone to. Berg had a terrible feeling that something awful had happened to him.

Berg nuzzled Pete's pillow and wrapped the sheets closer around him, inhaling Pete's scent. He'd left looking so upset, so confused, so uncertain. What kind of maniac withdrew _all_ his money from the bank, put it in a sock, and took off without letting anyone know where he was going? All right, short of being on the run from the law, which Pete wasn't (Berg hoped), what kind of maniac. And what the hell was this obsession with Sharon about? Pete had always behaved more like her brother or girlfriend than someone who wanted her. Now he was taking off in a panic because of her? It was all so unlike Pete.

No, it was unlike the Pete who had been Berg's roommate since college, the one who'd been Mr. Predictability, the man with a plan, the guy who knew what he wanted to be when he grew up since he was 12. That Pete had been cutely repressed, serious, steady, and reliable, and if he could sometimes be _too_ repressed, serious, steady, and reliable, well, that's what God had created beer for.

Pete had always been a blast drunk, dizzily unpredictable and inventive, voracious for sex. Berg would get Pete hammered but only drink till he himself was buzzed. He wouldn't miss Pete-on-a-bender for anything.

Now Ashley was throwing out every souvenir of those wild nights, erasing evidence of that Pete from existence. _Pete_ had masterminded that bout of oar theft, even as he said he had no idea what the hell they could do with a pair of oars. Berg had suggested putting them up on the wall as a trophy. Berg remembered how Pete's mouth--far hotter than his cold, wet skin--had tasted of beer, lake water, and something sweet, remembered the way he'd shuddered and moaned as they'd fucked themselves warm in this bed.

The oars had been second on Ashley's list to go, right after the basketball hoop he and Pete had spent so much time practicing their shots with.

Months ago, Pete started to change. Berg remembered his smirking thought that someone so steady had to crack sooner or later. Once upon a time, he thought that would be a good, fun thing to watch, like Pete being that fun drunk all the time. He had hilarious but hot images of his roommate as Mirror Universe Pete with a goatee, tight pants and sleeveless shirt, sash, and dagger. He never anticipated Pete's disorientation and self-doubt, never thought it would leave Pete so rootless, lost, and in pain. Pete tossed aside all the plans he'd made half his life ago as worthless but found nothing to take their place.

And nothing Berg did helped him.

It was a hell of a time for Berg to realize that he'd used Pete as his anchor all these years. He could be as crazy and feckless as he'd always wanted to be, because Pete would pull him in when he went too far and help him clean up the mess.

With Pete suddenly unable to look after himself and in so much pain, Berg hadn't known what to do. It had been like the sun had gotten knocked out of its orbit. Nothing worked, for him or for Pete. Maybe that was how he'd ended up with Ashley taking over Pete's position as polestar of Berg's life.

Berg had met Ashley before Pete's freak-out, and that relationship would no doubt have been like any of the others if Pete had remained stable. For Berg, women were a pastime, a hobby. Fun and games. Ashley's sneering antagonism, cold cruelty, and hard-to-get ways would have maintained his attention longer, but eventually he would have lost interest.

Instead, he had tried to use Ashley to fill Pete's anchor position. Unfortunately, where Pete had been a benevolent protector, Ashley was a gleefully fascist dictator, more than willing to take full advantage of the power Berg had given her. And it was all his own fault.

Now she redid the whole apartment, smirking all the while. It didn't matter to her that it was half Pete's apartment or that she didn't live here. When Berg had told her that she couldn't just get rid of anything she didn't like, she'd replied with a flip and sunny, "Of course I can, honey."

She didn't like Pete.

How long before Berg came home to find this room empty of Pete and all his belongings? //And what would I do then?//

Berg shivered and burrowed deeper into Pete's bed. //Call me, Pete. Be safe and okay. Come home and be you again. I _need_ you...//

### End

**NOTE:** Does anyone else's idea of a good fix to this series involve  
killing Ashley in an utterly unmartyr-like way and letting Pete  
comfort a grieving Berg? I'm projecting those vibes to the writers  
as we speak...


End file.
